


You Tell Me (What Would You Like To Read?)

by M_E_Lover



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-30 15:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/pseuds/M_E_Lover
Summary: If anyone is interested in helping me expand my creative writing skills, I'd love to take suggestions/prompts for any story ideas featuring the wonderful characters from this fantastic series!Tags will be added as things progress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone familiar with my stories, you know that I tend to write violent torture/blood & guts fics that often end with major character deaths. Although that's my preferred genre of story writing, and reading for that matter, I'm open to just about anything, so give me a challenge and let's see if I'm decent at anything else! Thanks in advance to all who want to participate!

Where shall we start?


	2. "Should Have Known Better"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jess’s prompt - So how about Reese is somewhere after finishing up with a number and he's hurt. Like hurt really bad and knows it's not good and he's probably going to die in the next couple minutes. So he calls Harold just to talk to him (Can be "Rinch" relationship or just friends) but Harold has no idea John's dying. So there's just a bunch of angst without him knowing it. But towards the end he starts to realize something is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John gets mortally wounded after a case and wants to hear Harold’s voice in his ear as he’s dying but doesn’t tell Finch how bad he’s injured... Harold figures it out.

“Mister Reese!” Harold had expected John to call him back immediately after he finished his business with their latest numbers assailant and was irate by John’s delay. “I trust you understand how worried I get when you cut our communications during a gunfight!?”

John had wrapped everything up with a bullet to the perp’s shoulder and a gun butt to his head, knocking him unconscious. Or so he assumed. 

What he failed to do was a rookie mistake. Trusting that the perp was down for the count, John turned his back on the man before he disarmed him and took two bullets in the back for the oversight. 

The first shot progressed through his right lung and came out through his chest cavity while the second stopped short and lodged in his kidney. He turned back on autopilot and fired his weapon into the man’s head; he wouldn’t be around to threaten anyone else’s lives ever again.

“Mister Reese…?” Harold sensed something was wrong when John took longer than he should have to answer and immediately calmed down from his tirade. 

“John? Please answer me.” Harold felt his blood pressure rise from the lack of response. “I’m sending Sameen to your location.”

“Harold… I’m here, the guy was just not as… easy to handle as I thought he’d be.” John smirked and fell to the ground. 

He knew that it was too late for him. He would bleed out within a few short minutes; there was nothing that could alter that reality but he didn’t want Harold’s last words to him to be filled with regret and sorrow.

“John you’re hurt I can tell. Do I need to send an ambulance?” Harold was frantic. He knew it wasn’t good and scurried to get his jacket on and descend the library staircase to hurry to John’s stationary GPS signal.

“You can call Shaw if you’d like Harold, I’ll just… wait here for her.” John was getting weaker by the second and the pain was intense, making it hard to breathe. 

He knew Shaw would be able to take it… seeing his dead body in the shape it was in when she found him but he knew that the sight would never leave Harold’s memory and he didn’t want that for him.

“I’m on my way John; just please hold on.” Harold got Shaw on another channel and relayed her John’s location and told her to take everything she needed for severe gunshot trauma. She would be en route in a short time.

“No Harold...! Just send Shaw with some medical equipment… you need to trace the victim. She’s on the run and the perp may have had a partner tailing her.” John knew that wasn’t the truth, he just needed Harold to stay away.

“Our intel didn’t point to a second perpetrator John, are you sure?” Harold slowed his movement on the stairs.

“Yeah Finch… I’m sure, can you just talk to me until Shaw gets here? You know… keep the patient awake in case of a concussion, that sort of thing.” John chuckled and was grateful that Harold wasn’t there to see the pain that was so obvious in his expression.

“Alright John, I’ll get on it. Miss Shaw should be there very soon so just stay awake.” Harold could hear John’s shortness of breath and was nervous.

“Where are you hurt?” Harold asked as he got back up to the landing.

“Just a couple of gun-shot wounds… I’ve had worse," John chuckled. “Let’s just chit-chat while you find out where our lady ran to.” John slumped forward painfully and spit out blood.

Harold’s heart dropped to his stomach. The last time John had been shot twice... he very nearly died and Harold would never forgive himself for that near miss. If this turned out to be any worse, he knew that this would be their last conversation and his gut was telling him so. He was stunned momentarily and fought to limp back to his desk.

John was quiet except for his labored breathing and Harold sat heavily in his chair, searching his distracted, addled mind for something to say.

“Well, Harold… what have you got for me?” John asked weakly. “No telling how long... Shaw’s going to be.” He let out a long pained breath and Harold's heart clenched tight in his chest.

He turned away from the monitors and clutched at the arm-rests of his chair and tried his damnedest to think of anything... anything at all to tell his injured partner.

“I’m searching for Miss Taylor now,” Harold lied. “How about telling me about high school John… what was it like for you?” Harold closed his eyes and concentrated on every sound… every intake of breath… every word that his partner spoke.

John laughed, “Come on Harold… you can do better than that.” John felt the walls closing in; it was becoming harder to concentrate through the pain and he moved to lay himself flat on the floor.

“Would you like to know about high school for me, John?” Harold offered. “Or something else perhaps?” He would tell John anything he asked… absolutely anything.

John chuckled and Harold was attuned enough to hear the wetness in his lungs now and nearly sobbed as he heard John struggling for breath. He swallowed down his grief and sadness and went on.

“I was an only child. My mother died when I was three and my father raised me on our farm in Iowa.”

He heard John chuckle, “A farm, Finch? In Iowa?” 

Harold smiled and did his best to sound affronted. “Yes, a farm in Iowa, John.”

“How’d she die?” John asked weakly. It took a moment for Harold to realize what he meant. He was too upset to think properly while he listened to John’s pained and hitched breathing from the other end of the comm.

“Pneumonia.” Harold answered sadly, “Something one would think to be somewhat benign but can be just as lethal as a bullet to the heart.” 

He felt the tears that had welled in his eyes spill over as he heard John say, “I’m Sorry, Harold.”

Harold fought to speak for long moments at the heartfelt sentiment until he heard Sameen’s voice in his ear.

“Harold, you there?” she asked somberly.

Harold rose abruptly from his chair, “Sameen! How is he?”

When he heard no reply for what seemed an eternity, he knew and fell back into his chair, numb.

“I’m sorry, Finch."

“Harold?” she prompted after long silent moments.

“You know where to take him, Miss Shaw.” He heard her make a phone call to Fusco and cut his end of the line. 

He wasn’t sure what came next as he sat there transfixed by grief. Maybe tomorrow would make things clearer. Tonight, was for him, alone. It was for mourning and sorrow and remembrance of his best friend and partner.

Finis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did okay, please let me know what you think! Thanks for the prompt!


End file.
